Kenneth Slessor

(27 March 1901 – 30 June 1971 / Orange, New South Wales)

Comments about Kenneth Slessor

  • NAM DO FROM CABRA HIGH (3/22/2018 8:02:00 PM)

    Y'ALL MAD DOGS! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

    1 person liked.
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  • Sam with Buns (3/22/2018 8:01:00 PM)

    you suck a lot of crap and things

  • Dickbutt Jones (10/26/2017 5:46:00 PM)

    These comments are depressing. But then again, so am I. Turtle rhymes with rape

  • Luke Perich (7/28/2014 6:26:00 AM)

    Slessor was a disgrace to humanity. He now rots in hell.

  • Robert Alexander (11/16/2013 10:36:00 PM)

    I reckon Slessor was a sicko. Slessor was a bloody sicko. Probably got abused when he was still weeny.

  • Robert Alexander (11/16/2013 10:36:00 PM)

    I reckon Slessor was a sicko. Slessor was a bloody sicko. Probably got abused when he was still weeny.

Best Poem of Kenneth Slessor

Five Bells

Time that is moved by little fidget wheels
Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.
Between the double and the single bell
Of a ship's hour, between a round of bells
From the dark warship riding there below,
I have lived many lives, and this one life
Of Joe, long dead, who lives between five bells.

Deep and dissolving verticals of light
Ferry the falls of moonshine down. Five bells
Coldly rung out in a machine's voice. Night and water
Pour to one rip of darkness, the Harbour floats
In the air, the Cross hangs upside-down in water. ...

Read the full of Five Bells

North Country

North Country, filled with gesturing wood,
With trees that fence, like archers' volleys,
The flanks of hidden valleys
Where nothing's left to hide

But verticals and perpendiculars,
Like rain gone wooden, fixed in falling,
Or fingers blindly feeling
For what nobody cares;

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